Is it the riveting conversation? The ability to rub any, See its not conceivable. Me was not thinking of any Adversity When I thought Fanani Flava Only Nicesities Maybe It's the wine And the understanding wiles The place we've set for life to have smiles At every stage like a baby growing Though there's the late night pledge It's all a beauty wedged In its experience Fanani Flava; A place to Savor By Ketronique

April 2009

I missed You All

Hey literary fellas
And you, young stars
Blossoming warriors
Born of literature wars
Boys and girls
2nite am so happy, tis been long,
And I have missed you all

Hows life treated you?
Cant remember, with my old-youth
When I last saw you
And the person next to you
Is he new?
I’d like to tell em
“Karibu mkuu”
2nite am so happy, tis been long,
And I have missed you all

So bring on the literary dances
Play on the poetic samba
Let em words, do the twist
while some, shake down the rhumba
cos this bunch even has the audacity
to squeeze life out of sindimba
2nite am so happy, tis been long,
And I have missed you all

Lawrence, where’s that magic cocktail?
The one you mix so well
Neema, my share of popcorn
As you chair this lunatic “poetico”
With Cuthbert’s help yo!
Carol, Ginory, Maya, Elsie,
Asha, Demere, Bakir, oh! who else?
What mischief have you been up to?
Let it out, share it all
Cos 2nite am so happy, to see y’all
It sure is great to be back!

by April 2009
Only time

Everyday we sleep
everyday we awake
but who can say where the old go
or what will tomorrow bring;
only time.
We couldn’t know the past
until it came
we don’t know the future
until it comes.
In life we learn to wait
for time to decide a fate.

By Eziekiel
Roses leftovers

A cold rivulet runs deep
down meandering of rocks so sharp;
like the hate and hurt which break a loving heart
shall cause so much grief and weep
that turns into phobia
a reason to die lonelier.
She said he broke her heart
now she feels for no one no more;
it’s like blossoming red roses
that were suddenly tramped
and scatter into pieces
which can never be mend
that’s how her feelings are.
There on the thin pavements of her heart
lay broken leaves and crushed remnants
of roses leftovers
a memory of dead-love-feelings.
So all that remains in her is
roses leftovers.
Love has ceased to exist
in her cold and sunken heart;
a phobia it has become.
She fears love as death
alone is what she is
and so alone she will always be.
Love is the reason she can’t be with me
though I’ve fallen for her
but I understand; coz will never forget
the way she says
what she says when she says
about her roses leftovers.
A reason for her phobia.

By Eziekiel

No comments: